


"Throw me in the dirt pit; don't think about the choices that you make."

by MeMyselfandI2008



Series: He’s Jerry [2]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27250390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeMyselfandI2008/pseuds/MeMyselfandI2008
Summary: Jerry is very tired.
Relationships: Beth Smith/Jerry Smith
Series: He’s Jerry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987240
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	"Throw me in the dirt pit; don't think about the choices that you make."

_“Loving you is_ work _, Jerry."_

Looking back, he often wondered if he was in the wrong. Maybe if he had been kinder, more careful, patient, he wouldn't have resorted to carefully folding and packing all of his belongings into a suitcase that sat on his side of the bed. Then, he realized how stupid that sounded. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he put into their relationship, nothing would ever be good enough for Beth, or even the kids, or anyone, really.

Rick had successfully taken one of the few good things about his life, and twisted it into some big, jumbled mess that hated him to his core. He frowned, turning to look at the small picture on his nightstand. The family photo had been taken shortly after Rick had moved in with them, "To celebrate," as Beth put it. He stared at it for several seconds, a lump forming in his throat.

Maybe it was better this way, maybe they were better off without him...

Carefully, he laid the picture face down, a scowl on his lips. No, he told himself. _He_ was better off without _them_.

"Jerry," Beth called from downstairs, "It's almost dinner time."

He silently wondered if he should bother replying, lips parting to try and form some type of strung together words that qualified as a sentence, but nothing came to him. He closed his suitcase and grabbed his wallet front the nightstand, being sure that he had his bus pass before making his way downstairs.

Jerry paused, just short of the front door, glancing at his family sitting at the kitchen table, distracted by the whimsical tales they had made during their day. Some part of him wanted to give them one last farewell, at the very least, to his kids.

“Don’t _insult my father. He’s the reason our kids are only half-stupid."_

_“I don't give a fuck what you think,_ Jerry _."_

_“Because if you move the bar_ so _low, you might actually seem like you’re_ worth _a fuck.”_

_“Now, quit fucking up, and let’s go.”_

The words echoed in the back of his head as he shifted his gaze between each of the people he thought cared about him. Despite how often he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror, he still couldn't speak the words that had been stuck in his throat for the longest time. It shouldn't have been hard for him to say. It was a simple one word sentence, and yet...

Swallowing thickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to slip from his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak, “Goodbye...” was lost in the fit of laughter that filled the kitchen. He shouldn’t have expected anything less, just as always. He faded away into obscurity.

Jerry heaved a sigh, turning to the front door and stepping out of the house that had lost all of it’s warmth, quietly closing it behind him.

This would be better, he told himself, he would be better.


End file.
